


Run Your Mouth

by CinnaAtHeart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy is still just a muggle, F/M, Ficlet, Oliver should have paid more attention in Muggle Studies, x-over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7411819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnaAtHeart/pseuds/CinnaAtHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her name is Darcy. </p><p>She lives in the apartment across from his and she is beautiful, but it’s really the ever-present gleam of amusement in her gaze that draws Oliver in. She greets him each time their paths cross with a smirk and an appreciative once over that does wonders for Oliver’s ego. </p><p>She is also, he knows, fiercely intelligent, so in hindsight, offering to fix her sink may have been a mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run Your Mouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phoenix_173](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_173/gifts).



> Pretty sure this is a brand new pairing? If so, sorry to anyone who wants to read more of these two idiots.  
> Gifted to the delightful and talented phoenix-173, who's work in Darcyland is an absolute delight! I strongly suggest you check her out!

Oliver Wood can safely say there has been very little that has managed to captivate him much like quidditch does.

It has been the bane of every relationship of his over the last decade and a half. They always start well enough, and he _tries_ \- he really does- but sooner or later his partner ends up feeling neglected after one too many forgotten dates and cut-short moments of intimacy. Oliver doesn’t blame them for leaving; he knows he’s not the easiest man to be with, and for the most part he’s come to terms with the possibility of remaining a bachelor.

But sometimes, when he collapses into his too-large bed after a long and miserable day of training or a defeat, he can’t help but yearn for another body to warm his bed and wrap around him when things get a little _too_ lonely. In the end, he’s not sure if it’s because of his loneliness that he ends up entranced by his neighbour, or something else entirely.

Her name is Darcy.

She lives in the apartment across from his with another woman who always seems to be in a state of disarray, that all too familiar look of obsession in her eye. Darcy doesn’t seem to mind, and she follows the other woman around with the organised air of a long-suffering friend. She is beautiful, but it’s really the ever-present gleam of amusement in her gaze (she reminds him of the Weasley twins, in that way) that really draws Oliver in. She greets him each time their paths cross with a smirk and an appreciative once over that does wonders for Oliver’s ego.

She is also, he knows, fiercely intelligent, so in hindsight, offering to fix her sink may have been a mistake.

 _Especially_ considering that Oliver knows _literally nothing_ about sinks. Or muggle plumbing. Or how to fix one _or_ more to the point, _what is actually wrong with her sink._

By the time he ends up in her kitchen though, Oliver knows he’s too far in to turn back now, so he smiles and nods along to her complaints, hoping _desperately_ that he’s coming across as knowledgeable whilst internally he screams at his fool mouth and his apparent inability to keep it shut around a pretty woman with soulful eyes and a laughing mouth.

Yeah. Oliver is in deep trouble.

“So,” Darcy asks, perched on the kitchen bench beside him as he kneels before the sink (Oliver seems to recall a repairman doing the same thing in some muggle television show one time). Her legs swing carelessly in a way that is extremely distracting, what with her shorts and _miles_ of bared skin. “Can you fix it?”

“Sure,” Oliver lies, staring at the plumbing with the countenance of a man about to meet his death. “It’s an easy fix.”

“Did you uh- need any tools?”

He shakes his head mutely. Darcy hums and hops down from the bench, strolling over to the refrigerator. “You want a drink?”

“Er,” Oliver desperately wracks his brain for information. He should have paid more attention in muggle studies. “Got any coke?”

Darcy makes a wordless sound of ‘no’ and Oliver takes the opportunity as she rummages through the refrigerator to whisper an urgent ‘ _reparo’_. Nothing disastrous happens and he sighs in relief. “We’ve only got milk or ice tea.”

“Ice tea sounds great.” He actually knows what that is, though in his experience it’s abhorrently sweet. Darcy hums in satisfaction and turns to the cupboards, and Oliver transfigures a scrubbing brush into a rough estimation of a spanner as she pulls out cups. He bangs at the pipes as she pours the tea, trying to make some convincing sounding noises.

“Here,” she murmurs when she’s finished, and Oliver almost jumps out of his skin at her sudden closeness, the cold glass of tea held beside his ear.

“Ah- ta.”

“You’re welcome,” Darcy replies absently. “Oh! Where’d you find the spanner?”

“Aye- I ah- I found it,” he fumbles. _Dammit._ Should have thought about that answer beforehand. “It was just lyin’ around under here.”

“Huh,” she sounds surprised and Oliver studiously Does Not Look as she hops back onto the counter. “I thought I looked under there.” For a moment, his heart damn near stops beating but Darcy just shrugs. “Must have done a Darcy Look.”

He glances at her in query, glass of horribly sweet tea halfway to his mouth. “A Darcy Look?”

She smiles self-depreciatingly at him. “It’s what my mom used to always call it. A cursory glance, or whatever.”

“Oh…” he glances back at his work. “I guess so.”

The kitchen falls into a companionable silence for a time as Oliver pretends to do something and Darcy drinks her tea. Eventually he decides he’s finished and sets the spanner down, leaning back on his heels. “There we go,” he says, hoping he sounds confident enough. “All done.”

“That quick?” Darcy asks, sounding surprised.

“Oh- aye. Was just a little thing, really.”

Darcy jumps down from the counter and leans over him to turn the tap on. Oliver waits with bated breath, but nothing catastrophic happens. Darcy laughs happily. “Oh man- just like magic!”

“Haha,” Oliver laughs nervously, and has to remind himself that she’s only a muggle and has no reason to know that it’s actually true. “Magic,” his fool mouth runs all the same. “That’d be unlikely, wouldn’t it? Yep, definitely not magic- _nope_. I have totally not used magic- _haha_ \- just good old fashioned elbow grease an’…” he trails off. Darcy is looking down at him intently. “Er- what?”

“I know you didn’t fix the sink, Oliver,” she says calmly. He blinks up at her.

“Er- wot?”

“There was nothing wrong with it.”

“Wot?” he feels like a parrot.

Darcy’s cheeks pink ever so slightly and she glances away. It’s the first time Oliver has seen her looking anything close to embarrassed before. “I just wanted an excuse.”

And really by this point Oliver is convinced he’s taken one too many bludgers to the head, because it is taking _far_ too long to understand what she’s getting at. “W-what for?”

She bites her lip and Oliver has the brilliant idea to stand up, only to stumble like an idiot, crashing into her and inadvertently pinning her to the bench.

There is a moment of silence. Darcy begins laughing and Oliver can’t help but join in, until they’re both laughing like a pair of daft gits, clutching at each other like they’re the only things holding them up. Eventually, Darcy sobers, regarding him with those darned soulful eyes of hers and Oliver asks her the question again.

“So I had an excuse to do this,” she answers.

And then she tugs him down and kisses him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come and chat with me on [tumblr](http://cinnaatheart.tumblr.com/) :D


End file.
